Golden Feathers (Rewritten)
by Kittygirl225
Summary: What if Gabriel didn't actually die?


It was a dark night. Though, of course, night typically is. That really is the whole point of the night. This night, however, was especially dark. The crescent moon's almost wicked smile was hidden behind the clouds, and very few stars sprinkled the almost-black horizon. Sam and Dean Winchester were, as usual, in a cheap motel room. A case had just recently been completed, so they were on their way back to the bunker.

Despite the time that had passed between his death and that night, Gabriel was running through Sam's mind. had a nightmare, a memory, almost, about the night of Gabriel's passing. It was not the most pleasant memory, and not one Sam had even thought about for a while. And yet, that night, Sam witnessed it all over again. As if the first time wasn't enough. The wound was not only reopened, but salt had also been rubbed into it as he saw the archangel's death over and over again. Like the day Gabriel had made Sam and Dean go through over and over again, Sam's pain from the night Gabriel died repeated. It felt like it would never stop.

There was a scream. Maybe Gabriel's, maybe Sam's. The unanswered and unimportant question was whose. The bright twinkle in the archangel's golden, honey eyes slowly faded, the irises left a dull brown. The mischievous smirk, the mask upon his face, it fell so carelessly, so haplessly to the cold ground. Soon after the mask was the angel himself. First to his knees. Then his back. He lay silently on the ground, a wetness in his eyes and a feeling of betrayal. Once his favorite brother, now his murderer. His grace slowly trickled out of the stab wound and it was soon a waterfall. Then a blinding white light. And Gabriel... he was dead. Three sets of wings seared into the ground.

Sam awoke with a start the next morning, happy just to be freed from that nightmare. Not surprisingly, he hadn't gotten the best sleep, and he was still upset from the nightmares and memories. He had a pounding headache, and was the last to wake up. Dean was standing with Cas. Actually, for just a second, before Sam rubbed his eyes, it looked like the two were hugging. But he shook away that thought, because they were a good distance apart only seconds later.

"Mornin Sunshine," Dean called over to his brother. "Hurry and get up, we're going home." The Winchesters finally had a place they called home. Sure, it was a bunker, but who cares? It was their home.

Sam groaned and got out of the bed, "What time is it?" He was thoroughly shocked. Dean was never the first one up. Never. Sam, being an early riser, typically got a morning run in before his brother was even awake.

"Eleven-ish." Dean replied, shrugging and grabbing the keys to the Impala. "You slept in today. Anything I should know about last night?" As he said that, Dean made a face. He was suggesting something, and Sam was unamused. "No. Just a nightmare."

Dean climbed into the driver's seat, Sam getting in the other side. Cas started to get into the backseat, but Dean told him he could just fly back to the bunker, and that they'd be there later that day. Dean shot his brother a look of worry. Night terrors were plaguing him again, but Dean decided to just ignore it for the time being.

Something was off that day. A brilliant deduction made by all three of them without telling any of the others, partially because none of them could pinpoint exactly where the feelings of uncertainty came from, so they wrote it off as nothing or as paranoia.

If only they knew.

~•~

It was a few days prior and in a strange place. A garden of some sort. There was fog all around, obscuring the trees and statues scattered around. It seemed the place had once been beautiful, but then it grew out. The statues were old, cracked, and chipping. There were two rotting trees in the middle, huge trees that appeared to have no reason for said rotting. No other plants were like this. Besides that, nothing really stood out. There was no noise, no change. Not for a while. Until a groan echoed throughout, and then the figure of a hum—no, of an angel—rose up out of the fog. He had three sets of large, golden wings. The angel coughed before turning around and taking in his surroundings. He recognized the place pretty quickly.

"How the hell am I here?"

~•~

 **A/N: sup bitches. I haven't written in years. haven't watched spn in years. but here ig lol.**


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